


Optics

by Milfluvr69



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: Found Family, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 22:38:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16147013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milfluvr69/pseuds/Milfluvr69
Summary: There is a lot to see the first time you meet someone. The eyes aren't windows to the other person's soul, they are tools you use to perceive and judge other people. You can look at someone, through someone, or you can look for someone. The importance of your point of view is well known to Deen, who always thought Jesse looked like nothing but trouble.





	Optics

“Jesse.” 

“Huh?” 

“You have shit taste in literature.”

After a week of having done nothing else but sharpening his beloved blade in the late hours after their marches, Deen had grown somewhat bored. Usually, he’d have something he could occupy his thoughts with, be it logistics or planning practice for his soldiers. His spare hours were used like rare treasures where he was able to relax, and perhaps even meditate in the scorching heat for an hour or two.

Since joining the ragtag brigade that followed Celica on their suicide mission, he had been relieved of all his previous duties. With Celica being their leader, any initial doubts had disappeared simply days into living under her chain of command. She was intelligent, charismatic, attentive and she inspired great loyalty in the people around her. Never one to turn down concerns or advice, but always the final say in the matter. Her phrasings were firm, but soft.

Her second in command was a man that towered above all else in his gold armour. Valbar, or something. He was terrifyingly competent with his knowledge of the physical aspect of fighting, and had years of experience in how to best move troops and take care of the strain of marching. He was as cheerful as Celica was subdued, and the two took care of each other.

The logistics were taken care of by the combined efforts of the teams archer and his mercenary comrade. And to Deens own reluctance, they were good at it. Leon having years of experience in rations, knowing more than the common man of nutrition and the essentials needed to keep the group well fed and able to move on. Kamui knew terrain and weather better than anyone Deen had ever meet.

Being in the company of such competent people pissed him off. Even Sonya found herself a little gig, teaching the younger mages more finesse in their magic. She did it like she did everything else; brilliantly. Despite her claims of boredom, Deen could tell she was excited to be able to teach the younger magic wielders a thing or two from her long experience.

As it were, Deen simply didn’t have anything to do. He occasionally sparred with the other mercenaries, yes, but he was forced to rest much more than he’d usually be comfortable with. Something about his body needing “the restitution” when they marched so much.

Which was why he had borrowed some literature from the second most useless addition to the miniature army. Jesse was a loud, rowdy, flirty, hopeless and obnoxiously upbeat man who seemed to tread on every single one of Deen’s neves when he walked by. If he wasn't whistling while doing chores, he was talking his companions’ heads off; and Deen was, seemingly, the only one who minded. 

Maybe he was the only one Jesse seemed so determined to talk to, despite Deen making sure on several occasions through his passive aggressive silences, that he did not want to make conversation. In the end he had given up, and snatched one of the books the blonde mercenary insisted on carrying around at all times, and had been unsurprised to find in its contents an ugly kind of sappy romance.

“Excuse me?? I’ll have you know that that’s a very popular and well loved story, thank you very much. Mae liked it!”

“I’m not surprised that pink twintails liked this garbage. She’s a teenage girl.”

“Mae is a teenage girl with excellent taste in literature.”

Deen fights back a snort at Jesse’s counterpoint. The shorter blonde laying sprawled out in the grass, running his fingers through it and tearing out small blades which he lets go in the wind. It's a warm evening, and they’re not too far from the dessert. The moment they had escaped the sand, Jesse had rolled over into the grass along with his big lumberjack friend. They stayed perfectly put digging their fingers into the soil until Valbar made them join the effort in cleaning equipment and removing all sand from their bags. The knight had let them stay put for nearly half an hour; Deen wouldn’t have allowed a minute. Then again, Valbar was a much better liked man than himself for a reason. 

“I’m sure you think that of everyone who agrees with you.”

Jesse huffs again, running a hand through his curls. They’re getting long enough to be a bother. Deen has been told by the other mercenary multiple times that he needs to cut his hair at least twice a month to maintain the length where he can both look and fights his best. Deen’s private opinion is that the curls frame his face and he should let his bangs grow out a bit more, but he’d rather stab himself on Atlas’s blunt blade than fuel Jesse’s vanity. 

“You're horribly rude to someone who's kind enough to lend you something from their little library. I didn't bring a lot of books with me you know!”

The books have had their pages turned so often they're almost read apart. The spines are fragile and if there ever were covers, they’re gone, leaving just the printed paper. Those kinds of books are expensive; Deen would know, he’s stolen and sold a few. He hasn’t asked how Jesse came across the copies though, he’s not one to pry into people’s pasts. Gods know he hates it when people try to get him to talk about himself.

“Fine, fine, I’ll read it all. But when I’m done I won’t hold back judgement.”

To Deens surprise, Jesse just smiles in response. He looks down at the goofy grin that's currently occupying what seems like two thirds of his face and he looks ridiculous.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“Nothing. You’re just gonna have to talk to me again, and share your opinions that’s all.”

“And?” Deen is getting suspicious. He doesn’t like how happy the dumbass seems to get from just a simple exchange of opinions. Jesse meets his eyes, his expression softening ever so slightly. It’s looking more smug by the second, which is Deen’s least favourite of Jesse’s expressions. That smug twist to his lips a sure promise of trouble.

“It means I´m gonna get to know you a bit better.“

“You’re an idiot.”

Jesse simply laughs in agreement, and Deen wonders if getting to know the persistent little shit isn’t going to be alright after all.

 

*

 

“Hello Deen. May I sit here?” 

It’s getting colder the further north they are getting. Sonya has been drilling her pupils on using their magics outside of battle, and is currently trying to get Mae to show some restraint when lighting their camp fires. The first attempt had the hungry flames devouring the woodwork Atlas had been working on during his night watches, and the evening had been spent consoling the lumberjack and trying to get Mae to calm down as well.

Mae had doubled her efforts after that, much to Sonya’s relief who had been somewhat annoyed at having such a different level in dedication from her students. During one of their overlapping half hours on the night shifts, she had shared a bit about their progress. She talked about Celicas quiet determination and gift for the subtleties of the arcane, about Mae’s reckless and somewhat irresponsible handling of her gifts, and of Boey’s hard work and dedication to keep up with his friends. She favoured talking about her youngest student, whom seemed a bit frightened of Sonya at first, but the two were working things out. 

Deen liked talking to the mage like that. It was rare for him to talk to anyone really, aside from his previous partner in crime. Jesse didn't really count, as he talked with everyone all the time and their conversations were entirely one sided, with Deen only occasionally provoked into responding. But Celica, she was welcome company. 

“Of course.”

It’s been about two weeks since Jesse took his word that he’d finish the damn book as an open invitation to talk whenever the mood struck him, and Jesse was a horribly emotional man, so the mood seemed to strike him constantly. It was exhausting, but not entirely unwelcome, much to his own surprise. Half the time the blonde just wanted an audience; someone to vent to a bit without really saying anything. Deen was an attentive and observant man, but after two weeks he couldn’t really say he knew anything other than superficial facts. 

Celica herself has given him some careful smiles as Jesse whisked him away in the evenings, asking him questions Deen was quite confident he already knows the answers too.

“I’m really glad the two of you are getting along. Jesse… doesn’t really have anyone in this army, not really.”

The topic of conversation surprises Deen. He had expected it to be a talk where Celica would ask for some advice, or perhaps a story so Deen could have some control over the conversation and share exactly the amount he was interested in the priestess knowing. But Jesse not being a part of their crew had not really been on his mind at all.

Celica smiled at his raised eyebrow, looking out at the camp in front of them. Small, it could have been mistaken for a crew on a minor trip, or a family going on a ill planned vacation, not a small army on a holy mission. But most of the members working around their chores had some connections: the children from the monastery, the sisters, the trio from a previous job, himself and Sonya. 

Jesse, Saber, and Atlas were the only ones seemingly without any kind or previous connection to their group. But Saber was an early addition Celica viewed as an older brother, and Atlas fell in that group as well through his own proclamation of brotherly connection to their leader. The two of them, seemingly at least, content with their situation. Jesse on the other hand...

“I know he thinks very highly of you, and despite the amount of words we hear, I know as little about him as any of you. He’s well liked, but I fear he’s being charming because it’s what is expected of him. I do not mean to make him your responsibility of course, but I wanted to at least bring his admiration to your attention.”

Deen nodded, slowly, once. The words sunk down and he tilted his head slightly to the side to get a clearer vision of what Jesse was currently entertaining himself with. Or well, entertaining others with seemed to be more accurate, as he attempted to aid Boey in their dinner preparations and getting nothing but annoyance from the short mage. Annoyance that Jesse seemed entirely oblivious too, excitedly chatting as he cut the potato pieces in uneven slices.

“You may sit with me a little longer. You could use the rest.” Deen looked at Celica. Even though she had made no indication of leaving, Deen wanted the company while he was thinking. It made them look a bit unapproachable and Deen had been robbed of that natural repellent of other humans since he had joined the group. Celicas responsive smile soft and understanding.

“That would be lovely Deen, thank you.”

 

*

 

The sky looked much like a painting. The clouds big and white and looking like a new, endless ocean overhead. Where it not for the wind slightly moving them, the illusion of their landscape an illustrated piece would have been perfect. Other than the wind breaking the tranquillity of the sky, there were a few birds, and the bigger shape of a pegasus scouting ahead. The Whitewing sisters made regular intervals where they took to higher terrain just to have some control of what would be coming around the next swing. It had been an established routine suggested by Catria after the terrain had been harder to scout on ground level, and had been a welcome part of their march.

Atlas covered his eyes as he struggled to find the shape of the pegasus above him, the sun harsh as it shone down on them. Deen hated sunshine getting in his eye. It was a bit inconvenient living in a dessert and hating direct sunlight, but he had managed. He had alongside his annoyance been warm, which was getting harder and harder to manage. He would have to use his cape more like a scarf after a while, or perhaps the plan was to invest in new equipment the further north they were getting. Hell if Deen knew.

“Wouldn’t it be better to just have the pegasi in the air while we march and have one of them come down every hour with a status report?”

“Well, in theory, yeah, but pegasi just like horses need breaks at a much more rapid pace than humans do. And It’s important to have the pegasi ready for battle in case something were to happen.”

“So they need to pace themselves more than us?”

Deen picks up on the conversation between Jesse and the big brute he’s talking with. It’s a good thing his bangs are so long or anyone could have noticed his eyebrows skyrocketing upwards at the response the blonde comes with.

“You got it! Take your own horse for consideration, you’re not at a full gallop at all times, because it would make him tired and unfit for battle. You could trot for quite some time before you’d need to slow down, and it’s the same with the pegasus. They run and glide and then they need breaks frequently to not run themselves into an early grave.”

“Huh, I see. that’s pretty neat I guess! How come you know so much about pegasi and such anyways Jesse?”

It was an answer Deen himself was very curious to hear, faking disinterest and looking out at the valley they were crossing to avoid looking like he was eavesdropping. He was doing a poor job of not looking suspicious, as this would be the first time he had ever done anything that you could compare to enjoying the view.

“Well, when you ask as many questions as I do, you’re bound to remember the answers you get sooner or later!”

Atlas laughs, and the topic is dropped. Deen doesn’t miss how Jesse runs his hand through his hair, keeping it on the back of his head for a moment longer than he usually does. He isn’t entirely sure, but he highly suspects it’s a comforting movement after telling a lie. 

 

*

 

“Do you know any constellations Deen?”

“No.”

“Aw, c'mon. Humor me! If you don't know any, you could just make some up on the spot it’s pretty easy.”

They haven't been assigned the night watch together before. It’s an hours overlap, where they sit together so Jesse’s eyes will be more accustomed to the dark before Deen goes to sleep for a few hours before dawn arrives, but he’s usually dodged having to sit with Jesse alone like this. The man is half asleep, rubbing his eyes and yawning every other second, but he’s still insisting on making conversation.

Deen looks up at the sky above them, the view is somewhat obstructed by the clouds above them, only a few stars blinking through the dark. 

“I’m not going to play your dumb games, Jesse.”

The blonde huffs, a childish noise but he stops talking nonetheless. It's better that way after all, when they sit there in silence they have a higher chance of hearing whatever that would be approaching them. Jesse leans forward to poke at the log infront of them, his tired expression visible in the soft orange of the fire.

Jesse looks good in the soft glow of the flames. Well, he would have if he didn’t look so exhausted and childishly defiant of Deen’s dismissal of his proposed game. His lips pursed in a pout that isn't entirely unattractive… it makes Deen clear his throat to change his train of thought. The shorter mercenary gives him an arched eyebrow as a response and Deen realizes he needs to talk to not be suspicious. 

“I’ve… made some progress. With your book.”

It makes Jesse perk up immediately, the defeated posture straightening up at the mention of the lent litterature.

“And? How far have you gotten? What do you think?”

“It’s not.. entirely bad. The prose is well written enough not to be boring at least.”

Jesse snorts, and leans a bit back, relaxing from the brief posture of excitement.

“That's characteristically noncommittal of you.” Deen frowns as Jesse settles back to poke at the flames more.

Deen lets out a sigh, and feels a little annoyed if he is to be honest with himself, at how easily Jesse leaves the conversation topic be. Usually there would be more of a light banter in their conversations and he wouldn't give up on finding a topic from them to discuss as easily as he’s doing now. He might be tired, but Deen has never experienced Jesse giving up an opportunity to talk to him before.

He realizes he’s somewhat concerned at the subdued man sitting in front of him. It catches him off guard and he looks down on his hands, running his fingers over the uncountable amount of scars that cover them. He’s been trained from an early age to fight, and didn't have the luxury of sparring with wooden swords even at the first stages of his swordsmanship. It’s made for quite unattractive features covered in layers upon layers of hurt that are more visible than Deen cares for.

Jesse on the other hand, has no scars Deen has seen. When the mercenary takes off his shirt to wash of the sweat from the marching there isn’t a single mark on his upper body. The only exception is a cut he got on his left hand trying to intercept a sword with his bare hand in a fight. It’s ugly, and Jesse kept picking at the wound like an impatient child, causing their resident healer a whole lot of worry about weather or not it was infected. Jesse stopped after a confrontation, Sonya had informed Deen on a bit after, and the blonde had not dared to remove the cloth around his hand for a week after the encounter with the temperamental teacher of the mages.

Jesse has asked about his scars a couple of times, whenever he tried to make conversation. It was early on established that Deen never answered personal questions, but the infuriating flirt never seemed to take warnings to heart. He laughed everything off. The contrast to his usual loud nature made the silence of the swordsman concerning.

Deen wants to ask if something is wrong, but his throat clogs up when he tries to feel the weight of such a personal question on his tongue. How the conversation could develop makes him uncomfortable. He knows he’s being the childish one now, but Jesse being aware that he cares about him is something Deen cant afford. Instead he decides to coax the man into talking about anything at all. 

“… So what constellations do you actually know. No made up ones.”

The response he gets to such a simple question catches Deen a bit off guard. There is a silence where Jesse simply watches him intently, a blank expression of confusion and curiosity that has Deen shifting in his seat. The fire sparks and dances in their periphery, and the lighting reflects warmly upon his face. Finally, the other mercs eyes grow wide and he smiles with his entire body as he tilts his head upwards to point at the few stars they can actually see. 

But Deen doesn’t stare at the few far away lights in the sky Jesse is going on about. Not when the glow of the fire makes Jesse’s hair shine like gold and his smile itself feels like sunshine.

He has trouble sleeping when he dismisses himself at the arrival of Kamui, his gut twisting at the radiant nature of the small man turning from him to the sleepy nomad sitting down and leaning his weight onto Jesse. The sight of them sitting so close has him pausing on his retreat, taking in how the two seem comfortable around each other in a way Deen hasn't even entertained in the slightest. But Jesse looks happy. Happy to be held and comfortable with the affection of someone familiar and for the briefest moment Deen wonders how it would look if a longer limbed man were to be the one holding the blonde before he makes a hasty exit.

He lies in his tent next to a sleeping Sonya and tries to convince himself his mind is muddled from the romance novel he’s been reading every night, and that there is not desire to hold Jesse in his arms.

 

*

 

They’re in another fight. The encounters have become more and more frequent, and Deen is biting his teeth together. He has Sonya on his right hand and Genny is right next to her again, meaning he’s as covered as he needs to be as he charges to hit the next undead monster that tries to approach him. Deen doesnt have much of it otherwise, but lady luck has always been an odd friend on the battlefield. He slices through the weakness of their enemies armour with unparalleled precision, and the skeletal body crumbles and turns to smoke.

Celica has explained that it would get worse and worse the further north they got, and that it  
wouldn't be wise to always dodge the fights they could learn their enemies strategies from. In the last week there have been two ambushes and they’ve lost provisions. Needless to say, Deen is cold, he is hungry and he is angry. His jaw clenched as he falls back, and Sonya sends a burst of magical energy past him. She throws her hair over her shoulder, and there is something incredibly comforting in her always keeping her cool no matter what. Deen is the only one who knows her well enough to notice her hands twitching when Genny rushes forward to help. She’s concerned, but cannot hold her back either. The saint needs the health she gets from engaging directly with the undead after all.

In Deens opinion, the skeletons are the worst to fight. Saber who flanks him on the left side, and whom is currently having some trouble with a particularly long armed bone pile, seems to agree. His thick arms holding his blade sturdy as he patiently looks for an opening to demolish the evil. They are armoured but still light and highly capable of dodging weapons. The mages deal with them easily enough, but the four swordsmen curse and force their victories. Usually, he strikes first and leaves little chance to counterattack, but Deen is for once, distracted. He hasn’t seen Jesse since the ambush. He knows the other man is capable of taking care of himself or Celica wouldn't have allowed him to join their little ragtag brigade, but he cant help himself. 

The moron has a very low sense of self preservation, and has on occasions intercepted attacks aimed at Valbar. The man who seems immune to physical damage of any kind and whom Deen has heard tell of being able to hold his own against a necrodragon with Celica finishing it off with her magic. Jesse seemed to either not recall, or not care when he was in proximity of anyone he cared about. No matter what he would throw himself into the lines of fire to distract or counter any attack. It was idiotic, and irrational, and it made Jesse dangerous in a fight despite being more emotional than Deen cared to see a man be on a battlefield. Deen dodges an incoming swing of a clumsy sword, and growls as he poises himself to pierce through the shoddily made chest plate of the dead.

As he pulls his sword back, sweat dripping from his neck, Sonya finishes of the abomination with another flick of her wrist. It’s almost comical how it explodes into swirls of smoke. It just so happens that the smoke gives cover to an another incoming attacker and Deen raises his sword a beat to late. The impact of the steel has Deen losing his balance. The skeleton takes the brief opening to swing at his unprotected throat, forcing him to counter yet a beat to late. The rest is a blur of slipping and falling on his back, rolling over quickly to try to get back up. Deen never really thought through the intelligence of his opponents, and curses his lack of consideration as the skeleton proceeds to kick muddy water into his face, causing him to go from one good eye to none.

“Shit.”

The dirt stings as he continuously blinks, trying to listen in on the situation around him. The loud rattling of the bones before him seem to sound like a hollow kind of laugher. Deen feels himself a distinct brand of pissed off at the implication that this thing is gloating at his reduced state. But he isn't too concerned with his situation. He has Genny and Sonya right next to him, and Saber on his left. Yes, despite being useless right now, Deen is quite safe. Which is why he’s so utterly confused by a certain someone calling his name like he's a dying man.

“DEEN!” 

Jesse sounds panicked, boarderling on hysteric as he realizes it’s probably not a terribly good look that he’s on his knees with his face full of mud with an armed skeleton towering over him, said skeletons additionally being intent on killing what they come across.

A confusing kind of guilt spikes in his stomach in tandem with a clash of metal above Deen. Trying to get some of the mud out of his face he’s greeted with Saber in his trademark defensive stance, pushing the enemy away with a solid kick. The pose he takes after the counterattack pisses Deen off. Saber smiles down at him as he shows off his endurance with a complicated stance. The twist of his lips, a smug, enraging thing.

“A word of advice, a one eyed man to another. Keep your face out of the dirt.”

“Fuck you.”

Saber laughs as he charges forward again, swinging in a broad and quite frankly untasteful display of power. He’s built for a fighting style much more based on physical force than what Deen manages with his long, lean limbs. Their score is tied when it comes to their sparring sessions, and if the ginger had in mind to count this as a win in his favour, Deen will hand out the man's sword as a makeshift axe for Atlas. Saber’s solid swing connects with the neck of the monster, causing its head to fall before the creature lands on its knees and disappears back into nothing.

Deen gets up on his own, picking up his sword on the way up from the puddle and is greeted with an almost equally messy Jesse stopping a few feet in front of him. He’s out of breath, quite clearly having run to get over to Deen. The rest of the field is now quiet, with a soft fog reflecting the early morning light. Everyone seems fine, and Deen is pretty sure he could make out who the people around him were but his vision seems unwilling to move from the man in front of him. Jesse’s curls stick to his face, and Deen assumes its a combination of sweat, with the mud that the blonde is most certainly going to complain about getting out of his hair the moment they get back to the campsite.

There is a brief pause where Jesse seems to fight out an internal struggle, his hands twitching as if they want to reach out for something. But he stops mid action, running his hand through his hair instead. It messes the curls up even worse and he looks ridiculous. Deen simply looks a Jesse, unable to really say anything. The short man’s face is twisted, like he’s trying to hold back tears and doing a laughably bad job at it. It makes Deen’s chest ache worse than any hit he’s taken. Finally, Jesse smiles, his eyes red and relief visible in his entire body.

“Thank Mila you’re alright.“

Deen stares, somewhat confused as Jesse wipes furiously at his face, before he breaks the trance and turns to walk over to Saber. He stands there, as Jesse joggs to catch up to the ginger, putting a hand casually on his arm while they’re talking. Saber laughs, a quiet chuckle and leans over to further ruin Jesse’s hair. And the blonde lets him. They walk next to each other back to camp, further and further away from Deen. 

Jesse looks back at him with that exhaustedly content smile three times until Deen cant make out his features in the mist anymore.

Deen is knocked out of his own trance when Sonya snaps her fingers impatiently. She’s gotten some mud on her cape and her expression is distinctly sour.

“Come on, we need to get back to camp. One of those… things managed to get dirt on Genny’s skirts and if we’re not quick they’ll be stained.”

He just nods and follows along as Sonya asks Genny about the battle, the tactic and the spells they used. It’s welcome background noise as Deens head spins Jesse calling out his name over and over accompanied with the image of him walking off with Saber.

 

*

 

The sparring the next day is more intense than usual, save for Jesse and Kamui’s warm up match. Kamui is longer and lighter, but Jesse is adaptable and quite creative in how he manages to cover up for his literal shortcomings. The two set a playful tone as they dance around each other, chatting while they try out their weaknesses. Kamui got hit in the battle the previous day, and has a healing cut on his shoulder. Why he insists on not covering up more is beyond Deen.

Like Kamui is to Jesse, Saber has been a makeshift rival in combat for Deen. The two older men highly skilled and very different in their approaches to battle. Deen is aggressive and assertive where Saber is defensive and calm. The two sit next to each other, watching the other sword fighters play a duel with bad quips to humor their their audience. Valbar, Leon and Atlas are also present, the three having developed a score system to amuse themselves in the off time where they watch the mercenary matches. 

Leon stands behind Valbar, working out the knots in the broad man’s shoulders. Atlas is entertaining himself with some more wood carving, and when Deen squints he thinks he can see the faint outline of a bear. The sun warms enough that they can sit in minimal clothing as their battle clothes were washed due to Sonya and Leon’s joint insistence that just because they were traveling, they shouldn't stop taking care of themselves and their equipment. Jesse got most of the dirt out his golden locks, and the slightly damp hair curls even more than normal. 

Saber is laying down, eye closed and enjoying the sunshine on his uncovered upper body. Deen is equally envious and annoyed at the other man’s confidence in his physique. He himself is still in a baggy cotton undershirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows to allow the sun to warm his forearms. Jesse is wearing a vest that leaves shamefully little of his chest to the imagination, while Kamui is in a sleeveless long shirt that shows off his toned arms. Deen is surrounded by narcissists.

There is a rapid clang of swords as Jesse successfully outmaneuvers Kamui and pins the other man down by falling on top of him, back pressed against Kamui’s chest. Deen has always hated the goofy attempts to make light of battle. It’s not a game for children after all, but there is also subconscious tug of jealousy as Jesse attempts to roll off Kamui, only to have the other man roll over and pin him down, feigning a victory as Jesse laughs and the other man makes a bow at their audience who laughs at their play fighting.

“You look more at home on the bottom there, Jesse!”

Deen didn’t even notice Saber sitting up to pay attention. Jesse laughs it off, getting picked up by Kamui as the two men brush of the grass and pebbles that stuck to their skin.

“Guilty as charged I’m afraid!”

He winks, a theatrical gesture, but Deen still feels his stomach drop at the flirtation. He almost stutters a response, but Saber cuts through.

“I’d wink back but I don’t think It’d be quite as charming, or even noticeable.”

It causes another wave of laughter and Deen realizes that of course it wasn’t aimed at him. It makes him unreasonably annoyed. Luckily for him, it’s not unusual for him to be annoyed at the antics of the rest of the men around him, but he’s honest enough with himself to realize that it’s not the casual flirtation or bad jokes that bother him. He’s bothered by not being the center of Jesse’s attention and flirtation.

His scowl doesn’t go unnoticed, as Jesse’s smile goes a little sheepish, shrugging and sitting down next to Atlas, knocking their shoulders together. Saber gets up to be Kamui’s next sparring partner. Deen’s jaw sets and he watches the gingers performance intently. The two are on quite an equal skill level, save for the perfected parry Saber brings to their practice. He effortlessly guides Kamuis strikes to the side, pushing back at every given chance when Kamui has to find his balance after striking. It’s a safer, but physically demanding way of fighting, and Saber is starting to build up a sweat despite only keeping his defensive stance, body hunched slightly as he keeps a low posture.

Jesse watches intently as well. Deen notices because he almost thought they locked eyes for a second, sitting opposite one another, but they were both staring at the same target. There is a faint redness to Jesse’s cheeks and he’s not paying attention to the match as much as he is eyeing Sabers upper body. Deen scoffs, forcing himself to watch Saber as well. The muscles on prominent display undeniably as impressive as they are aesthetically pleasing. At a particular swing his arms flex and Jesse’s eyes follow a drop of sweat with wide eyed attention.

Deen gets up the moment Saber deflects another strike from Kamui, passing the fighting and walking past the group. His hand twitches and rests on the handle of his sword, but he doesn’t trust himself to duel at the moment.

“Deen? Where are you going?” Jesse looks up as he stalks past them, confused and with a hint of concern in his dark brown eyes and Deen almost feels bad for ditching their practice. Almost.

“I’m going to talk to Sonya.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I have never published anything on this site before, I am so sorry. A bit of this has not been beta read and I'm a well known proud provider of typos in everything I write. I'll do my best to keep this updated, click that like and smash the subscribe button


End file.
